It was strange to be greeted by her brother's face everywhere she went as they toured the Department of International Magical Cooperation, but there he was—on posters and flyers, along with Zara and the other champions—all promotional material for the Tournament. While the offices clearly supervised everything that involved other governments and countries' affairs, it was obvious that the Tournament was their number one item taking up much of the department's time at the moment. She'd even noticed a board labeled "Hogwarts Task" while they'd been walking, but she'd been unable to see much of it given where they were standing.
They weren't allowed to enter that room and the door had been quickly shut as they passed. It was actually the shortest tour of the day. Their guide—a bloke named Vulric—was constantly telling them that, unfortunately, they were not allowed access to many areas given the secretive nature of the Tournament.
"I bet Sarah loved this," Natalie muttered as they walked past the largest Tournament poster yet—with Louis and Zara's pictures front and center. "But I have to admit, that's a sexy photo of him."
"Gross," Dominique muttered.
At a quarter to four, just as the group was beginning to wrap up their tour, Dominique managed to pull aside Vulric and ask where she would be able to find office 515 for her scheduled appointment. She'd been paying attention for the entire tour, but hadn't seen any offices labeled with that number. Perhaps it had been amongst the ones they were quickly shuffled past, but even if she had seen it, everything felt like a maze at this point. Vulric had seemed skeptical as to why she needed to access that part of the department, but after going to check with someone out of sight, he'd returned and said he would take her to where she needed to be once he'd handed the rest of the group off to their next guide.
While she was still completely confused as to why this appointment even existed, she was also rather curious as to what she was in for. Whatever it was, she had no desire to pursue it unless it was a meeting with a Quidditch team. She was rather confident that—even with Louis' bloody photographs on their walls—she was going to get there and someone would realize she wasn't him and they'd sent this to the wrong person. If she was a betting woman, she would have put all of her money on that.
Someone from the courtrooms had come to collect the rest of her group for their tour, and as uninterested as Dominique was to actually go along, she was a little disappointed that she didn't get to join everyone else. She wanted to see her friends, and especially Jack; now finding that she was starting to miss him when he wasn't around.
That feeling was a strange and new development. She rationally knew it was only another hour or so until she got to see him again, but that hour also seemed unbearably long when all she wanted to do was get to the end of it. She'd so badly wanted to freeze their time together at lunch so that it didn't have to end—even if Natalie had tried to cause some waves.
"We ran into Stuart Reynolds," Natalie randomly told their friends around a circular table in the Ministry's dining area as they picked at cold sandwiches and crisps.
"Oh, he and Nic are friends," Sarah teased as Dominique glared at Natalie. "How is he doing? Still look as good as he used to?"
"Better," Natalie said as if it were fact, which was strange considering Flynn was sitting right next to her. He didn't react one way or the other and was busy attempting to throw crisps up in the air and catch them in his mouth while Jack watched and counted. "You should have seen him in his smart looking robes. You remember how we'd just sit and watch Ravenclaw practice all the time?"
"That was the most interested I've ever been in Quidditch," Sarah said, earning her an eye roll from Dominique.
"He was flirting with Nicki, too."
"He was not," Dominique said, now throwing her a silencing look. For fuck's sake, was any of this conversation necessary? "He said hello and we talked about his job for all of thirty seconds before he left. That was it."
"And he said you looked good."
"In a polite way," Dominique protested, though it didn't stop her from wanting to whip out her wand and stun Natalie where she sat. This could not have been a more awkward conversation for her to be having, considering Jack was sitting directly beside her.
"But don't worry," Natalie said in a reassuring sort of way, now addressing Jack. "She wasn't interested. Even said she'd pick you over him."
"Awww, how sweet," Sarah said, her tone very much taking the piss since she had to be well aware of how much this entire exchange was slowly killing Dominique.
She closed her eyes and actually felt her face getting hot. She was so happy that her feelings and emotions—which she was always so careful to keep locked away inside—were now on display for everyone else to see and laugh at. So very happy.
"I'm getting pudding," Natalie said, apparently now done with her reign of obnoxious terror. She looked at Flynn. "Are you?"
Flynn laughed as if that was a dumb question, having already started to stand. "I thought you'd never ask."
They both disappeared in the direction of the food; Dominique stared daggers at them as they went. She could see Sarah smirking at her from across the table, though she hadn't chanced a look at Jack. When she finally did, he was grinning as well. She let out a tiny, embarrassed sort of groan and let her head drop. She was not the person who let the world in on her emotions. She was supposed to be guarded.
"She'd pick you over Reynolds," said Sarah, followed by the sound of a chair scraping as if she was standing. "She was holding your hand earlier. For her, that's pretty much the equivalent of marriage."
"Are you done?" Dominique asked, looking up at her.
Sarah smiled at her before stepping back, evidently following the other two in search of pudding. As she strolled past Jack, she patted him on the shoulder and added, "Whatever you're doing, keep it up, mate."
"I hate you," Dominique called after her. She reached up to rub her face. "I hate everyone."
"Even me?" Jack asked, his grin rather affixed to his face at the moment. "I didn't do anything."
"No, not you," she mumbled, looking over at him. "Though, I feel life was a lot easier when I did."
He laughed as he made a gesture of moving his chair closer to her. He placed his arm on the back of her seat in a casual way. "So, you'd pick me?"
"Natalie told me I was dumb."
He made a face as if to say that Natalie could piss right off, but he shook it off rather quickly. "She's dating Flynn. That tells you all you need to know about her judgement. I mean, I know Reynolds is stupid kinds of handsome, but I'm not so bad."
She laughed before settling into a smile aimed directly at him. He had the patience of a saint and she had to wonder what exactly she brought to the table to even make him put up with her.
She quickly looked around the room, noticing that it was completely filled with so many people and so much going on. She'd already been pushed this far, why not go the whole way? What did she have to lose? She leaned over and kissed him quickly. In a crowded room full of people.
Now, it was his turn to glance around the room, as if he was attempting to remind her that there were people around. "Really?"
She shrugged and tried to play it all off as cool and casual. "You're better looking than Reynolds."
"That's a blatant lie, but I appreciate you saying it."
It had turned into a really nice moment and she had come out the other end in one piece, which was something that had surprised even her. She'd shown herself that she was capable of doing this because she wanted to. She wanted him, so if she had to work on some of her weirder quicks, so be it. As long as he was patient, which he'd proven he was, they may have this figured out soon enough. She felt so close to actually being able to make something happen.
And it had come none too soon, considering she needed to ride that high after lunch once she was led directly into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures—which was where Davies worked. She'd been on high alert during the entire tour and had even put the hood of her robe up as they passed through the "Being Division" where she knew he was stationed.
Natalie had asked her what the point in hiding was, considering he'd obviously see a tour of Hogwarts students coming through and put the pieces together. Dominique chose to ignore her. She luckily hadn't seen him at all, which meant he was thankfully somewhere else. Something was clearly on her side that day.
When it was close to four o'clock, Vulric had led her down a long corridor which led to yet another long corridor. This entire building was a maze wrapped in a puzzle as far as she was concerned; she really had no idea how anyone was supposed to find anything. They finally started passing the numbered office; 511, 512, 513, 514, and finally stopped outside of an ordinary looking door labeled 515. Vulric even took the liberty of knocking for her, though there was no immediate response.
"What division of the department is this?" she asked.
"Just general international affairs," he said. "These are conference rooms."
"So, this isn't anyone's office?"
He shook his head, just as noises behind the door indicated that someone was about to open it. Once the door pulled open, a woman with a dazzling smile and corkscrew curls stood there looking very...red. Fashionable red robes, red heels, red lipstick. She apparently had never heard the expression less is more.
"Good afternoon," she said to the both of them in highly accented English. She nodded at Vulric, as if to thank him, and turned directly to Dominique. "Happy to see you have found us. Thank you for coming."
The woman gestured for Dominique to enter as Vulric excused himself. Dominique almost wished he hadn't. She didn't know him, but him being there made her oddly feel less intimidated about walking into that room.
She crossed the threshold, noticing immediately that there was a large rectangular table in the center of the room that looked as if it could seat about ten people. On the opposite side, four people sat—though only one of them was actually at the table. The other three were in chairs back against the wall. They all looked at her as she entered.
"Would you like something to drink?" the red woman asked, having shut the door behind her.
Dominique shook her head as the red woman walked around the table to have a seat next to the other gentleman. Of the people in the back, two men and a woman, two of them were holding large rolls of parchment and had their quills at the ready. The other man, who had his long, dark hair piled up on top of his head in a top knot, did nothing but watch her.
"Have a seat," said the red woman, who then gestured to the lone chair on Dominique's side of the table.
She stared at it, but didn't move. "What's this about exactly? I'm not sure why I'm even here."
The gentleman at the table, who was dressed far more plainly in boring, grey robes, smiled at her. "Have a seat and we'll get to that," he said, his voice completely free of an accent.
"I didn't sign up for anything," Dominique said as she slowly edged toward the seat. "I don't know what this is for, but I have no real interest in working in...international whatever.'
"No?" asked the red woman. "Why not?"
She shrugged as she sat down. "I want to play Quidditch."
"Ah, yes," she said with a quick nod at the gentleman. "I've read you're quite the Quidditch player. A Seeker, I believe. You scored well at the Trials, no?"
"I…" she faltered slightly. "I did alright."
"Oh, I seem to remember it being better than alright," she said, turning around to look at one of the scroll holders. "What was the number?"
"A seven," the woman responded.
"A seven," the red woman repeated, turning back to Dominique. "Very impressive. Much better than alright, I think."
Dominique's brow furrowed. Why did they know that? Why did they know anything about her? What else was on that scroll?
"Quidditch is a wonderful aspiration, but you should always have a backup plan in case it does not work out," the red woman continued.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Lisette Laurent. I work for the Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France." She gestured to the man beside her. "This is—"
"Zacharius Smith. I'm her British counterpart here in the Department of International Cooperation."
"Ok…?" Dominique said, realizing that hadn't answered her question. Also, was no one going to introduce the people in the back? It certainly didn't seem as if that was going to happen. "Why am I here?"
"Why do you think you're here?" Lisette asked.
Dominique stared at her. Was she serious? Did she really think she would have asked if she had any idea? "I thought maybe you meant to invite my brother and accidently got me instead."
Lisette smiled at her, though this time it was far more reserved and less dazzling. "Your brother is away for the tournament."
"You don't say."
"That would have been quite a mistake to make considering he's become a bit of a celebrity around here," Zacharius said with a small laugh, glancing over at Lisette briefly. "No, Dominique, you're the one we were hoping to speak to. The timing of it all is rather fortunate because we believed we'd have to travel to Hogwarts to see you, but then got word that you would be here today. It worked out well for all of us."
"What has?" she asked, now getting annoyed that no one was telling her anything useful. "I still don't know why I'm here."
"You're here," Lisette said, "because we'd like to talk to you about your brother."
She blinked. Everyone in the room was staring at her again, though no one was speaking. They apparently were going to leave that hanging in the air.
"Is he ok?"
"Oh, yes," Zacharius said while Lisette nodded. "Last I heard, he's doing very well."
"Of course he is," Lisette added. "At Beauxbatons, they know how to take care of their guests." She made a quick face. "Durmstrang and Hogwarts could learn a thing or two."
"Regardless," Zacharius interrupted. "He's fine."
Dominique continued to stare at the two of them. They wanted to talk about Louis. Why? What did they want to know? They had a scroll's worth of information behind them that knew detailed information about her, she was sure they had just as much, if not more, information about Louis. What did they want from her?
"Have you heard from him recently?" Zacharius asked.
"No."
"Being twins, that must offer you a very special sort of bond."
That wasn't even a question, so she continued to stare at them. They didn't need to dig deep for this; they could have asked anyone with a subscription to the Daily Prophet for these details.
Lisette and Zacharius exchanged quick glances while one of the men in the back, the one with his dark hair up in a bun, suddenly leaned forward in his seat to whisper something to Lisette. She nodded and turned back to Dominique. "We are just attempting to get to know our champions better by talking to the people they are closest to. We have it on good authority that you would do anything to help your brother. Is that true?"
"Yes, obviously, but I don't—"
"Then we can help each other."
"Look," Dominique said, feeling more than annoyed that this was happening. "I've been getting asked to do interviews on my brother for weeks now, and it's just not something I'm interested in. I don't know if you're writing a story—"
Zacharius shook his head. "We are not the press. Anything you say in here stays in the room."
"Why?" she asked, genuinely feeling confused. "Why do you need to know things about Louis that you can't find out by reading his files or talking to him? What are you looking for?"
Lisette turned around to the man with the top knot, who immediately shook his head. When she turned back to Dominique, her face was sympathetic. "It's all part of a bigger picture. I unfortunately can't share those details with you."
"Then I can't share anything with you either. It seems we're done here."
Lisette and Zacharius exchanged looks again while the scribes in the back were feverishly writing something down. The man with the bun stood up and was now reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, glass orb that reminded Dominique of a Remembrall. He approached the table and spoke to her in a very thick accent.
"'Hold this."
She stared at it before letting her gaze travel to Lisette and Zacharius, both of whom were silently encouraging her to do it. "What is it?"
"'Hold this." the man repeated, holding it up closer to her so that she could get a better look. It was barely bigger than a Snitch and completely transparent. For all she could tell, it was an empty glass ball. She didn't want to take it, but did ofer a finger to give it a quick poke.
"It's just a means of—" Listete began, though she never got to finish that sentence. Apparently, Dominique didn't have to actually hold the orb for it to do what they wanted it to do because simply tapping it had caused it to flash an almost blinding light in her face. Her head suddenly felt as if it were being—for lack of a better term—emptied out. It was the most bizarre feeling she'd ever experienced in her life, as if everything she ever knew or thought was gone; erased from her mind entirely for several seconds.
She couldn't even remember her name, where she was, or who they were. It lasted all of ten seconds before she felt herself slump in her chair; her brain suddenly began to refill itself back up with it's thoughts and knowledge, almost as if someone was pouring them back in. It took a good minute, but slowly, everything began to clear itself up.
The man with the bun pocketed the ball in his robes and suddenly turned to walk the length of the room; out an adjoining door. Within seconds, he'd exited into the next room without so much as a glance behind him.
"Let me assure you that nothing you just felt will give you any lasting effects," Zacharius said. "Within the next half an hour or so, you'll feel completely fine."
"What the...fuck...did you...happened to me?" Dominique asked, everything still fuzzy and strange and she rubbed her face rapidly. Lisette—who Dominique hadn't noticed left her seat—had returned with a glass of water and was attempting to hand it to her. She didn't take it. She didn't want anything these people were offering her.
"It is nothing that will harm you," Lisette reiterated. "Sometimes, we take shortcuts."
"Shortcuts to what?!"
Lisette smiled, though Dominique now found it rather unsettling to look at. "It will all make sense soon enough. If you can stand, you are free to go."
Free to go? Had she ever not been free to go? She immediately stood, happy that her legs worked as she needed them too. This entire room and the people in it were now giving her the creeps. The Ministry was a creepy place when she actually thought about it. These long corridors where people were doing who knows what behind closed doors. She just wanted to get out. She needed to get out.
Lisette was holding the door for her and Dominique walked through it and out into the long, dark hallway which only heightened her sense of anxiousness. She barely remembered where to go to get back, but she wasn't about to ask the people in that room anything more. She almost felt as if she was being watched; a strange adrenaline fueled sense of panic washed over her once she heard the door from room 515 snap shut behind her. She practically jogged away.
She'd remember the turn Vulric had taken her down, which led her down a wider, longer, and—while she hadn't noticed earlier—a much better lit corridor. While her thoughts had returned to normal, her anxiety was off the charts. What had that bright light been? What had it done to her? What were they going to do with it and what did it have to do with Louis?
How had anyone allowed that to happen? Surely, her professors had to have known what was happening or else they wouldn't have put the appointment on her schedule. She momentarily thought of her parents and whether someone would have needed their permission, but then it occurred to her that she was an adult now. She was on her own.
The main offices of the department came into view at the end of the corridor and Dominique stopped jogging. Everything seemed so boring and normal out here, with people working at desks, drinking cups of tea, having conversations. She needed to figure out how to get to someone she knew, which meant she'd have to get to the courtrooms. She wasn't even sure what floor they were on.
She pushed through the office and walked straight to the lifts. There was a small group of people already waiting, and Dominique immediately felt nervous at their presence. She couldn't trust anyone right now; whether that was an effect of whatever the bright light had done to her or because she just hated everyone because it had happened in the first place. She needed to find Jack or Sarah or someone she knew.
The lift was half full when it opened and Dominique hesitantly boarded as the lift operator began asking people for their destinations. The group who had been waiting with her had said level four, and Dominique was still busy trying to read the key on the wall and figure out where the courtrooms were. The operator must have assumed she was with the other group because he let the lift lurch up from level five to four with no further questions, stopping to let out at least five to six people. A few more people got on right as Dominique realized that the courtrooms were down on level 10. She was about to ask for the operator to take her there when someone spoke.
"Uh, Dominique?"
She whipped around, far more sharply than she usually would, and was greeted with Davies standing there. Upon seeing him, she was an odd mixture of startled and slightly relieved to see someone she knew. He seemed just as surprised to see her.
"Are you alright?" he asked, looking her up and down. "You look ill."
"What floor?" the lift operator asked him.
"Atrium," he said without taking his eyes off Dominique. "What are you even doing here?"
"School trip," she said as the lift stopped on the sixth-floor and allowed people to exit. "I'm on the school trip."
"I assumed that," he said as the lift lurched down again. "I saw some people come through earlier. I meant, what are you doing here in the lift? What floor are you even going to?"
"Dunno," she mumbled. "Courtrooms?"
"Are you sure you're alright?"
"No."
The doors to the Atrium opened and the lift operator gestured to Davies to say this was his stop. Davies hesitated as he continued to address her. "Do you need some tea or something? Maybe you should sit down."
Tea sounded nice. Sitting sounded even nicer now that she was free from that cold room upstairs. She nodded at him and he mentioned he knew a place she could get some if she followed him. The lift operator looked at her as if silently asking whether she was getting off and, after glancing at Davies one last time, decided that a familiar face was a familiar face. She honestly couldn't trust him, but she could at least trust him not to freak her out.
There was a small cafe in the Atrium that sold pastries and hot drinks. Dominique had seen it when she'd arrived and it was the exact place Davies was headed given the direction he was walking. He slowed down to allow her to catch up.
"Why are you on your own? Where's everyone else?"
"I...I had things to do. I was looking for them. They're in the courtrooms."
"The courtroom are fucking boring," he said once they reached the end of the queue for the cafe. "You're not missing anything."
"I don't see how they can be any more dull than the rest of this place," she muttered, glancing around as the hustle and bustle of people rushing off to wherever it was in this vast building that they needed to be. "Why aren't you working? Are you on a break or something?"
He nodded. "I was actually coming down here to grab some food because I missed lunch."
She nodded as if to acknowledge that, but didn't respond as she continued to stare rather vacantly at the baristas behind the cafe counter. The queue inched forward, though just as they neared the front, she realized she hadn't even brought any money with her. Their lunch had been covered by a voucher she simply presented in the commissary, and she hadn't exactly anticipated needing to spend anything. She sighed. "Nevermind. I forgot to bring money."
He shrugged her off. "Don't worry about it. I'll get you some tea."
She stared at him. A part of her wanted to tell him not to bother—she didn't want to take advantage of anything he was offering because then he'd somehow feel she was indebted to him—but she really wanted something to drink. "I guess."
"Alright," he said as he reached the front of the queue. "Go sit somewhere. I'll take care of it."
She turned away and found a small area nearby with tables scattered around. She managed to find one on the perimeter of the group with a view of the Fountain of Magical Brethren; she sat at one of the two chairs. She slowly started to rub her face, her head feeling as if she were recovering from a Bludger hit. There was a mild fuzziness and a ringing she couldn't seem to shake. What had that orb thing been about? Why hadn't anyone given her any answers?
Davies appeared a moment later. He put his own drink and sandwich down on the table before handing her a paper cup filled with tea. To her surprise, she noticed that he actually remembered how she took it. She wasn't even sure she'd ever told him, but it was exactly the way she liked it.
"Thanks." She sipped it, the warmth of the tea immediately bringing her some comfort. "Why are you being so nice?"
"Because I am nice."
She laughed at that. That was funny.
"Why have you been avoiding me?"
"Because you can't take a hint," she said. "Or an anvil, in this case. I told you we were done. What else is there to say?"
He sipped his drink and looked off into the crowds for a moment. "At the time, I assumed you were just being a bitch and would get over it. How am I supposed to know you meant it?"
"Because I told you I meant it."
He rolled his eyes. "You say a lot of shit you don't mean."
"Well, this time I did mean it. You talked to the bloody Prophet about me."
"Barely. And I wasn't aware that I wasn't supposed to."
She made a face. That was a pitiful excuse. "You were there that day. You saw me tell them I didn't want to talk to them. You saw me tell them all to piss off. The only reason I even let you into the arena to talk was because I was trying to get away from them. Again, Davies. Take a fucking hint."
He shrugged as he sipped his drink. "Sorry. Didn't know."
"You also never once, in a year, used the word girlfriend, but one reporter asks you for a quote and that's the first thing out of your mouth? Suddenly we're in a relationship. Fuck you."
"Is this about me never wanting to label things between us?" He stared at her. "But when I finally do, you get mad."
"Because I'd already broken up with you!" she shouted. "It doesn't even matter anymore. This conversation changes nothing. I didn't ask you to come with me or buy me this," she held up her cup, "so don't think things are back to the way they were. I've moved on."
"Yeah, I've heard."
"Heard what?"
"You're fucking around with Jack Ians now."
"Who told you that?"
"People," he said casually. "Why is it some sort of secret?"
"It's no one's business, is what it is. Especially not yours."
He laughed. "You two were always chummy," he said in a patronizing sort of way. "I never thought much about it because I figured he didn't ring any of your bells, but I guess things change once you get an almost perfect ranking at the Quidditch Trials."
She found herself glaring. She knew exactly what he was trying to insinuate and he could fuck right off with that.
"You're always so fucking jealous that I can do better than you," she said, looking him straight in the eyes. "You heard I got with Reynolds and you suddenly wanted me back after chucking me. You start seeing my face in the papers and I'm suddenly weirdly popular, you start calling me your girlfriend. Now that I've moved onto Jack, what's next? Are you going to propose?"
His expression turned amused, as if he actually found that funny. "Eh, that's a bit much."
"You had a year and you wasted it," she said, laying her hands down on the table and leaned forward in an aggressive manner. "But now other people aren't wasting it and it drives you mental."
He stared back at her, his expression rather pensive. "You're not wrong."
"And you're always wrong."
"What can I say," he said as he—out of nowhere—reached out and laid his hand on hers, grabbing it in the process.
She looked down at his hands as if it were a foul sort of object, but didn't immediately pull herself away. She felt oddly frozen all by the gall it took for him to fucking do that. Everything since touching that orb felt like it was happening in slow, strange motion.
"I'm never happy with what I have," he said. "And I never realize it until it's too late. It's weird."
She quickly tugged at her hand, but he was still holding it firmly. "You're fucking weird."
"But what does that make you since you kept coming back?"
"That's over," she said, just as she overheard a man at the next table suddenly announce to his associates that it was nearly five o'clock and that they'd continue what they were doing on Monday. It caused her to immediately look at a nearby wall clock and see that it was practically ten to five. She was supposed to meet the rest of her class now; at the fountain directly behind her. She immediately stood up in alarm, pulling her hand away in the process.
"Look, maybe…"
She didn't even bother to acknowledge him. She turned around at that and hoped their visit to the courtrooms hadn't ended yet. Hopefully they were all running a few minutes behind.
Unfortunately, what she saw was the complete opposite. Not only were her classmates finished, but it looked as if her entire class was already standing around the fountain and waiting to leave. Most of them were milling about and chatting; some clearly inspecting the fountain. But the ones she'd been desperately hoping were preoccupied by something—anything—else, looked as if they just arrived. They were currently staring right at her.
Everything was in slow motion. She again felt frozen to the spot—the spot that Davies was still sitting less than a few feet away from. Sarah was staring at her in complete disbelief, her expression begging her to answer what the hell she was doing. When they made eye contact, she began to shake her head before she looked away in an angry sort of stupor.
She could barely bring herself to look at Jack, but she did. His face was completely expressionless; blank as a slate. He didn't turn away as quickly as Sarah had, but when he finally did, she almost felt that he looked the emotional equivalent of being smacked.
Sitting with Davies would have been bad enough to raise a million questions, but if they'd seen the hand thing...Fuck. Why had she even let that happen? What was she thinking?
She wasn't thinking. That was the problem.